


Things Left Unsaid

by HolmesArtemis8



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dark, Drugged Sex, F/M, Hap is a horrible person, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Like Really Horrible, Miscarriage, One-Sided Attraction, Pain, Pregnancy, Rape, super dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesArtemis8/pseuds/HolmesArtemis8
Summary: Prairie bears the brunt of a lapse in judgment from Hap.
Relationships: Prairie Johnson | The OA/Hunter Aloysius "Hap" Percy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Things Left Unsaid

As always, the gas hissed into the unlucky victim’s chamber without warning. At the sound, everyone always jolted alert and, except for Prairie, looked to their respective vents.

“Prairie, it’s you,” Homer said urgently. He flattened his palms against the glass that separated them.

Prairie felt behind her for the cot she slept upon and sat gently. She swallowed hard as her breath quickened in anxiety. The gas began to fog her mind; she laid down as control over her body and mind slipped away.

Within minutes, the clang of the metal door sounded, and Hap approached the glass cages with the wheelchair in front of him. Besides the soft noise of his shoes against the cold, rock floor and the stream that flowed through the cages, all was quiet.

Hap opened Prairie’s cage. “Stand up,” he directed. Prairie obeyed. “Sit down in the chair.” Again, Prairie followed his instructions as he guided the blind woman to the wheelchair.

After about an hour, Hap wheeled Prairie back to her cell and had her lie down on her cot. He placed a hand on her upper arm and left it there for a moment longer than he should have. Hap then left her cell, locked the door, and went back upstairs.

Prairie sat up after a few minutes.

“It was you, this time, Prairie,” Rachel offered.

Prairie put her hand to her throbbing head. Her entire body ached this time as if she had been thrown against a wall.

“Homer,” she said quietly. “Did he say anything about what he’s been doing?”

“No, he never says anything about it,” Homer replied.

“He was especially quiet today,” Rachel observed.

Scott sighed. “Doesn’t even give us the courtesy of a ‘how do you do.’”

“Whatever’s going on, it hurts afterward,” Prairie said to Homer.

“We’ll find out. At least it’ll probably be a while before he takes you back again,” Homer comforted Prairie.

And Prairie found that he was right about that.

Prairie laid on her side, her back against the glass. She listened to the sounds of Rachel humming and Scott washing his shirt in the stream. Homer’s cot rustled every now and again, meaning that he was probably resting like Prairie.

Prairie could not tell how long it had been daytime, but she could tell it was definitely day by the sound that played to signal the rising of the sun.

A horrible, sour feeling began to rise up from Prairie’s stomach. The inside of her mouth twisted and began to water. She knew the feeling of being sick back home with her father and Nancy and Abel. Prairie quickly got the floor and felt her way over to the stream. When she opened her mouth to warn Scott, vomit quickly lurched up her esophagus and came heaving out of her and into the stream.

“Prairie!” Homer exclaimed.

“Aw, fuck, Prairie! You couldn’t’ve warned me?” Scott shouted.

Rachel, too, said Prairie’s name. “Are you all right?”

Prairie heaved once again, the contents of her stomach vacating her. She could feel tears streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe around the vomit.

She coughed and sucked in air once she finished, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Prairie, are you OK?” Homer asked. “Breathe, breathe, it’s all right. You’re all right.”

Prairie listened to Homer’s comforting words as she sat back on her legs and tried to recalibrate.

“Fuck, man, I gotta wash it _again_ ,” Scott muttered.

“Shut up, Scott,” Rachel sneered.

“I’m fine, Homer. Those pellets just don’t agree with me all the time,” Prairie replied.

Scott scoffed. “Well, remind me not to eat that fucking dog food today.”

Prairie wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, Scott. I tried to warn you,” she said.

“Eh, it’s all right. It’s not like it’s the only shirt I got,” he chuckled dryly. Scott's sarcasm died in the silence that fell amongst the group again.

Prairie awoke from a deep sleep. She felt a dull pain in her lower belly and she sighed. Finally, her period had decided to come. She pulled the pillow from underneath her head and pressed it against her stomach like she always did and tried to settle back asleep.

A sharper pain caused her eyes to bolt open, even though she could not see. She grunted softly and sat up, pressing a hand to her abdomen. It was going to be an aggressive menstrual cycle.

Prairie swung her legs over the side of the cot but felt a wet sensation underneath her. She felt around the cot and found that the wet spot was much bigger than it should have been. Had she wet herself? Prairie brought her fingers up to her nose and sniffed. She gagged at the iron smell. She was bleeding—a lot.

Prairie went to stand, but stabbing pain sliced through her stomach like electricity. She called out and doubled over, her knees hitting the rock hard beneath her.

“Prairie?” Homer mumbled sleepily.

“I’m fine, Homer, go back to sl—“ Prairie cried out again a bit louder as more pain shot through her. She fell onto her side and dragged herself over to the stream.

“Hey, something’s wrong with Prairie!” Homer shouted. “Prairie! What’s going on!”

Scott and Rachel’s voices sounded, but all Prairie could hear was her own anguished cries and a ringing in her ears.

Homer began to pound on the glass and scream, “Hap! Hap, something’s wrong! Hap!”

Prairie gritted her teeth and curled up into a fetal position. She rolled over to her other side, her backside against the bank of the stream.

“Homer! Help! Help me!” Prairie screamed. Scott and Rachel joined in with Homer as they pleaded to get Hap’s attention.

Prairie’s screams stopped suddenly and became confused whimpers. “Something—something’s come out of me! It’s in the water! Homer, oh, God! What’s happening!”

Homer knelt down next to the glass. “Scott! What’s happened!”

There was silence as Prairie laid there, whimpering like a dying puppy in the darkness.

“Oh, my God…” Scott said.

“What?” Homer shouted.

“What the fuck, oh, my _GOD_!” Scott cried.

“Homer, what’s happening?” Prairie wept.

“Scott, what is it?” Homer’s voice sounded panicked now.

“That fucking son of a bitch! Motherfucker! What the fuck!” Scott screamed.

Rachel began to sob. “Scott! What happened!”

Prairie wailed in fear, her voice cracking and her arms wrapping closer around her body.

Scott pounded his fist on the glass. “I’m gonna kill that fucker!”

“Scott, what happened!” Homer shouted.

“THAT MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH FUCKING RAPED HER, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED!” Scott bellowed.

“Oh, my God,” Rachel squeaked.

Homer’s incoherent screaming was the last thing Prairie heard before she fell unconscious.

Prairie awoke in silence. What had happened? She remembered screaming and yelling, but it was far away, like a dream. Was she dead?

Suddenly, the morning chimes went off, and she realized that she was still very much alive. No one stirred, however, which meant that everyone was already awake.

“Oh, my God, Prairie,” Scott muttered.

Prairie moved her legs, but they were sticky with dried…what?

“Prairie, how did you not die?” Homer asked quietly.

Blood. It was dried blood.

“Oh, God,” Rachel murmured before she retched into the stream.

“Well, now we know what kind of shit that sick fuck is doing to us when he pumps the gas in here,” Scott stated. “At least with her anyway.”

“Scott,” Rachel pleaded for him to stop.

“We’ve all seen the way he looks at her! Especially when he brings her back after taking her to God-fucking-knows-where!” Scott said.

Prairie sat up weakly and pulled herself away from the stream and towards hers and Homer’s shared glass.

“Homer, what happened?” her broken voice pleaded for answers.

“God, Prairie, I’m so sorry,” Homer whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

A heavy metallic clang reverberated throughout the cave, and frantic footsteps descended the metal staircase.

“Well, look who decided to join the party,” Scott called out.

“What the hell happened?” Hap asked urgently, his eyes darting over Prairie’s bloody scene. He approached Prairie’s cage and opened it.

“I think you know exactly what happened, you sick bastard,” Scott taunted.

Hap knelt down and grasped Prairie’s upper arm lightly.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!” Homer bellowed as he pounded on the glass.

Hap jumped and stepped back, genuinely afraid for a split-second that Homer might actually break through the material.

“I swear to God, when I get out of here, I’m going to tear you limb from limb!”

Hap shook off Homer’s threat and refocused his attention back on Prairie’s broken body. “Can you stand?” he asked her gently. Without hearing her answer, Hap put his arm around Prairie’s side and hoisted her up. He looked at her red-stained dress and winced. “Oh, God, Prairie. God, you—“

“Miscarried,” Homer finished, his singular word cutting into Hap’s flesh.

Hap swallowed hard and avoided looking at Homer. He led Prairie around to the empty cage and locked her in there.

For the next few hours, or what seemed like hours, the sound of scrubbing and spraying met Prairie’s ears. Hap was cleaning her cell as if nothing had ever happened, because to him, nothing did.

Hap inwardly chastised himself. He could not bear to think of the full implications of the situation, so he became angry at himself for interfering in his own research. An error in judgment nearly caused the loss of one of his subjects. Nothing like that could ever happen again. He could not risk his research for physical pleasure, no matter how undeniably satisfying it had been to him.

After he finished cleaning Prairie’s cell and moved her back to it, he took her soiled clothes and washed them thoroughly. It would be weeks before he would come back down to his experiment subjects, and months before he would begin Prairie’s NDEs again.

As the OA recounts her story to French, Steve, Jesse, Buck, and BBA, she excludes these events, and never speaks of them again to anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own "The OA" or any characters therein. All rights belong to Brit Marling and Netflix.
> 
> Kudos and comments highly appreciated but never expected.


End file.
